Oh my gods. This man. My soon-to-behusband. He always says the right things to make me fall in love with him all over again. I struggle to wipe the tears from my face fast enough beneath the sheer fabric of my veil.
“Now, Leigh,” the officiant says, “it is your turn.”
Rising from her seat with the other bridesmaids in the front row, Gianna hands me my printed vows. I hold the expensive stationery, but I can barely read the quotable, queenly words through my tears. The first word is his name. I see that, but dammit, I can’t make out the rest. What I wrote is beautiful andeloquent and has the royal stamp of approval, but what I really want to say is messy, raw, and very much me.
I crumple up my vows and toss them back to my maid of honor. Gianna catches them as surprised murmurs reach my ears from our guests. Wilder raises a brow.
I clear my throat. “Wilder, I am so happy to be with you here today and to start living this life of ours together.” My voice rings clear and strong, even as emotion vibrates through me from head to foot. “Over the past few years, you’ve been the best partner I could have asked for. You’ve loved and supported me, even when my ideas have been—let’s admit—questionable.” The audience laughs, pleased. “We’ve loved each other through the good days and the bad, been there for each other when the world seems to be falling apart around us, but most importantly, our values, outlook on life, and of course our love for the arts—and spicy romance books—align. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you, and I want to say thank you. Thank you for your love, your friendship, and your commitment to our relationship, even when I don’t make it easy. You are my light in the dark, and I will always find my way back to you.”
Wilder wipes away tears. He mouths, “I love you,” and I silently say it back. Because if there’s one thing I am certain of in this upside-down world, it’s that I love Wilder with every fiber of my being. My heart beats in tune with his, and we will dance to that beat until we take our last breath.
“Now the rings,” the officiant says.
Jaxson rises, straightens his jacket, and hands the officiant our wedding bands. He winks at Wilder before retaking his seat between Anselm and Desi.
After the rings, the officiant calls out, “Now, you may kiss the bride.”
Wilder draws me into him. One hand lifts my veil to fully reveal my beaming, tear-stained face, while his other armsweeps around my waist, gathering me close. He kisses me deeply and I arch into him, decorum be damned. The way he holds me is probably illegal in at least twelve territories. The audience gasps, laughs, and titters. Somewhere in the crowd, Alden’s delighted yip rises above the din.
The second Wilder pulls away, I want to yank him back. Still, I’m too breathless, dazed, and incandescently happy to protest when our officiant calls, “May I present Her Majesty, Queen Leigh Amaris Raelyn-Dunn, and His Highness, Commander Wilder McCoy Dunn.”
The abbey erupts in applause as, hand in hand, Wilder and I descend the dais. We walk back up the aisle to greet our wild and unpredictable future together, at last.
“Gi, wait up.”
Meg nearly topples over in her heels to chase after me, but I’m on the hunt for the missing bride and groom. They have a ballroom full of people waiting eagerly for their first dance. It’s on the itinerary, and Leigh better not fuck it up. The band worked hard to learn how to play her favorite song.
“Leigh is being so selfish,” I mutter. After everything she put us through…
“Or maybe she wants to be alone with her husband?” Meg points out.
I glare sidelong at her. “Whose side are you on?”
“You sound like Alec,” she says with a laugh, referring to her middle sister.
“I just think it would be nice if they put in a little effort; we were all worried sick this day would never happen,” I say.
Meg nods. “Or maybe you should put in less effort.”
I scoff. Meg’s words from this morning still taunt me.What do I want?I haven’t had time to consider that—not after my conversation with Queen Jorina was interrupted, not since I rushed to Leigh the second I heard she was back, and not while I sat through hair and makeup to ensure Leigh walked down the aisle on time.
We turn a corner, and we both stop short.
“Looks like we found them.” Meg snickers, while my cheeks heat.
Leigh has no idea we’re here; she won’t stop kissing her husband. The gasping breaths and silent words of love and devotion they whisper to each other make it clear they believe they are alone.
Seeing them in this stolen moment, tucked in a shadowed hallway, the sound of distant music muffled by thick walls, I understand what Meg was trying to say.
They don’t care what anyone else thinks. All they care about is each other.
Wilder sits with his back against the thick plastered wall, legs sprawled, pulling Leigh on top of him until she’s straddling his lap. Leigh paws hungrily at his shirt, nearly ripping the stubborn buttons from his chest. His bow tie hangs loose, and his jacket must’ve disappeared ages ago because it is nowhere in sight.
They kiss fervently, greedily, tasting the night and all its possibilities. His hands slip under the layers of her skirt. Shoving the fabric up until it’s gathered around her waist, he exposes the garter circling her thigh. When she kisses the sharp line of his throat, he groans deep in his chest, and the sound sends me glancing at my date, whose jaw is hanging open.
By the stars, I’ve been neglecting her all weekend, focusing more on this wedding than on her needs. Needs that certainly need tending to. Immediately.
I clear my throat pointedly. Leigh wrenches herself off Wilder’s lips to find me standing above her with Meg, arms crossed, both of us trying hard not to laugh at the sheer look of horror on both of their faces.
